< previous page page_387 next page >

Page 387
battles to watch, and even those who were too near the conclusion of their own fights to give over, drew away. A space opened around Ian and Albini, and the shouts and general clangor of metal against metal diminished until only the battle noises of the principals were loud in that area. No one could now approach without being entirely obvious to spectators and judges alike. The cloud of dust diminished also, since there were no other horses, no other furiously moving bodies to keep it suspended.
Both men were now clearly visible, and both had been slightly wounded. A trickle of blood blackened Ian's sapphire blue surcoat from the ribs of his right side. A similar trickle stained Albini's high on the shoulder. Neither seemed aware of, or in the least impeded by, the cuts. At the moment, the horses were almost still as both men stood in the stirrups and hammered at each other with great, slashing strokes. Then, almost as if by some mutual signal that no one else could see, the destriers plunged into violent action again.
As the horses reared, Ian launched an overhand blow. Albini lifted his shield to catch it, simultaneously leaning out to the right to gain a freer swing at Ian's unprotected side. Possibly the edge of his shield struck the horse, or possibly the rider's position unbalanced the animal, but Albini's destrier gave a terrified neigh and crashed to the ground. Ian uttered a cry of consternation, loosed the handgrip of his shield and grabbed for the rein that was fastened to his pommel. In his efforts to prevent his horse from savaging the fallen rider and mount, he almost brought the beast down. By a contortion that very nearly unseated Ian, the gray kept his feet, plunging and snorting with fury.
In the moments that it took Ian to get his horse under control, Albini had extracted himself and was urging his destrier to its feet again. Ian rode back. The

 
< previous page page_387 next page >